


Trick or Treat

by Jamie_Douglas



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamie_Douglas/pseuds/Jamie_Douglas
Summary: Takes place around the end of season 2/beginning of season 3. Alfred finds himself tied up and at the mercy of a sadistic dominatrix--Tabitha Galavan. To find what she's done with Bruce, he'll do anything.





	Trick or Treat

Alfred had just taken a lovely meat pie out of the oven and was letting it cool as his phone pinged. He took off his oven mitts and glanced at it: a text from Bruce. “Come now—need your help!” and an address in Brooklyn. Alfred tore off his apron, ran to the library, grabbed his gun, and was out the door before he remembered it was January. No matter—coats were optional when Master B. was in need of assistance. 

He got to the address in twenty minutes flat, having broken several traffic laws and endangered two elderly pedestrians along the way. The building was massive, its front severely dilapidated. It looked like an abandoned warehouse. What the devil was the little bugger doing in a place like that? Alfred threw open the car door and sprinted across the street, his Walther held out in front of him. He tried the door—it was unlocked—and decided not to waste any time by searching for a back entrance. Bruce was expecting him. He pushed the door open with his foot and poked his head around quickly, the gun coming first. There was nothing but darkness in the entrance, with a thin shaft of light coming through a hole in the ceiling somewhere. He could just make out a set of iron stairs to the left, so headed for those. “Bruce?” he whispered. His right foot was on the bottom rung when a sudden blinding pain hit his head. He slumped over onto the step, dazed. Alfred struggled to master himself but a sharp stab in his neck put him down again. 

She had been waiting in the shadows behind him. Tabitha Galavan, decked out in her usual tight black leather suit, set down her hammer and put the syringe back into her pocket. Knowing from their last encounter how tough Pennyworth was, she wasn’t taking any chances this time. She pulled two heavy ropes out of her backpack and tied his arms and legs securely before dragging him across the cement floor and into a small nearby room. It must have been the office at one time, as the rotten remnants of a desk and a single dusty wooden chair stood underneath the one tiny window. With a great effort, she hauled Alfred’s body up onto the chair, found more rope in her bag, and tied him down, circling the rope several times around his chest and the back of the chair before knotting it. Then she ripped off part of the wooden desk, grabbed four nails from her pack, and hammered the wood over top of the window. Now it was pitch black in the room, so she took out her lantern, lit it, and set it in the middle of the floor. It cast a dramatic glow around the sleeping butler’s carefully shined shoes. 

But he wasn’t asleep. Heavily drugged and with a horrible throbbing in the back of his head, Alfred nevertheless forced his eyes open. His speech was slurred. “What have you done with Bruce?” 

“Not a thing,” Tabitha chuckled. “Yet.” 

Alfred pulled at his bonds but they were held fast. He tried to clear his mind of the pain and the drugs and to think. He could tip the chair over, but what then? It would do no good if he couldn’t get up, couldn’t use his arms or legs. 

“Don’t bother. You can’t escape. And if you get too frisky, I’ve got lots more where this came from.” She held up the empty syringe for him to see. 

“What is it?” he asked, attempting to focus his eyes. 

“That’s my little secret. Truth serum? Heroin? Who knows! I can do whatever I like to you.” She smiled. 

“So what’s your plan, Tabby? Why not just kill me?” He wanted to keep her talking. 

“You’ll find out. Anyway, a girl’s gotta have a little fun once in a while, no?” She produced his gun from behind her back and walked forward, pointing it at him. She dragged the barrel of the gun up the inside of his left thigh, then touched it to his chin. 

“Where’s Bruce?” he asked through gritted teeth. 

“Don’t worry, Alfred. Your little boy is fine. And he’ll continue to be fine as long as you cooperate.” 

“I don’t understand. What do you want from me? I don’t know anything.” 

“Nothing? About the Court of Owls?” She backed up and reached into her bag again, pulling out a long black blindfold. She fluttered it in the air for effect and then sauntered back to him. He jerked his head away but she slapped him hard across the cheek. “Play along, Alfred, and maybe you won’t get hurt.” She tied the blindfold over his eyes. He couldn’t see a thing. 

Alfred heard the ripping of fabric before he felt the cold blade on his skin. She was cutting off his clothing, and barely managing to avoid slicing him open: he felt a sting as one swipe scratched across his chest. The warehouse was not heated, and he could feel the frigid air rushing onto his exposed body. Then he heard a sound he’d hoped never to hear again: the lash of Tabitha’s whip.

Alfred felt a searing pain across his left shoulder as the whip came down. Then it came down again, this time onto his right thigh. His skin had split open, leaving a bleeding gash. Still, he refused to cry out, because he knew she would enjoy it too much. He bit his lower lip and tried to think of something else. Like how he could find out where she had taken Bruce. 

Tabitha saw that Alfred was in pain. The blindfold covered his eyes, but the rest of his face could not hide the truth. She walked over to him, leaning in close and trailing her whip over his flesh. The freezing air was giving him goosebumps, or maybe that was from the pain, too. A little blood was oozing from the laceration on his shoulder. She bent forward and licked it, savoring the sharp, metallic taste. 

He flinched as something wet touched the wound on his shoulder. At first it relieved the pain a bit, but then it stung. What the hell was she doing? “Do you have Bruce’s phone? Or did you force him to write that text?” 

“Let’s not talk about Bruce. Let’s talk about you. You and me.”

He felt a hand on his arm, caressing his bicep. “You still haven’t told me what you want with me.”

“Yes, I have. I told you I want to have some fun, and if you play along, nothing will happen to Bruce. So let’s play!” Her voice sounded anything but playful. 

“Oh, Jesus,” he mumbled. 

She laughed. “Is that a yes?”

“I’m not really in a position to say no, am I?” He struggled against the ropes again, hoping to loosen them without her seeing. 

“I know what you’re doing, Alfred. Trust me, you can’t get free.” 

“Trust you?” 

“Okay, don’t trust me. But at least relax. You’re not going anywhere until I let you.” Her breath was suddenly in his ear. “You’re under my control now.” 

His mind was turning. He probably couldn’t get free—he had to admit that to himself. Maybe if he kept working at the ropes, they’d loosen eventually, but for now they weren’t budging at all. She had a gun, a whip, a needle full of debilitating drugs, and who knew what else, and he had nothing—not even the use of his hands or feet. Plus, he had no clothes, only shreds that clung to him here and there. The best plan of action was to avoid pissing her off so that she wouldn’t beat him down. If he could distract her, maybe the drugs would wear off and he could regain some strength, enough to break free and take control of the environment. And in the meantime, he could try to find out about Bruce. 

“Alright, fine. Just don’t hurt me again,” he said, hoping she’d be satisfied with this performance of subservience. 

“That’s right, darling. You’re helpless. I’m glad you’ve finally accepted it.” She kissed him on the lips and he instinctively turned away despite his recent resolve to pacify her. 

This infraction earned him a cuff on the back of the head, in the same spot where she’d hit him earlier. In spite of himself, he shouted, “Ow!” 

“I don’t think you understand the rules of the game, Alfred, dear,” Tabitha oozed. “I do whatever I want, and you don’t fight. Got it?” 

He nodded. He wished he could see, just so he could prepare himself for whatever she would do next. He had an idea: if she got her face close enough to his again, he’d bite it off. 

“Open wide,” she said, pushing something against his lips. He clamped them shut. She sighed and moved away, and then there was a moment of silence. 

He tried to anticipate where she was going. The whistling of air in front of him told him what he wanted to know, but there was nothing he could do to stop the lash of her whip from striking him—this time across his lower abdomen, dangerously close to his family jewels. “Argh! You fucking miserable bitch, I’m going to kill you when I get out of here!” he shouted. 

The hard, round thing was pressing against his lips again. 

“That’s enough of that nasty talk. Now be a good boy and open up like I asked, or I won’t miss next time.” 

Alfred debated his choices. If she wanted to kill him, she could do it in any number of ways, and more than anything, he wanted to protect his most tender parts. He opened his mouth. 

Tabitha pushed the ball into his mouth and fastened the strap behind his head. Tasting rubber, he wondered if he’d made the wrong decision. As long as he could breathe through his nose, though, he’d be fine. 

“There. Now you can’t call me filthy names. That’s supposed to be my job. And I bet you’ll like it. I can always tell.” She smiled. “Right, scum?” 

Inside, Alfred was furious, but he nodded, trying to placate her. 

“I knew it! I just wish I didn’t have to tie you up. If you were really my slave, I wouldn’t have to. Then you could touch me.” Her voice had turned all silky soft. “I’d make you please me in sooo many ways. Would you like to do that, Alfred?” 

He grunted from behind the gag and nodded his head vigorously. 

“Yeah, right. I’m not that stupid. You just want me to untie you. You’re still being a naughty boy, aren’t you? I’m going to have to punish you for that!” 

He heard her high-heeled boots stepping closer. He shook his head and tried to say “No,” but the word couldn’t form. As soon as her hand touched his balls, he started to thrash around, almost tipping the chair. Her fingers grazed him softly at first, then gave a light squeeze, which quickly turned harder and harder until her hand felt like a vice around him. He tried to scream. Blinding pain ripped through his whole body and he thought he would pass out. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the torture stopped. A tear fell from his eye. 

“Oh, my poor little scum. Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it better.” Then her tongue was on his throbbing balls, licking them like a cat grooming itself. He thought about squeezing his thighs around her head and snapping her neck, but she had tied his legs down to the chair’s seat. He couldn’t move anything but his head. Despite the soothing feeling of her tongue, he couldn’t shake the pain, and started to wretch behind the gag. 

“Oh no, don’t do that, or you’ll choke,” she told him. 

He somehow swallowed down his vomit and waited for the next attack. 

******  
Tabitha was playing nice now, and he couldn’t figure out why. Probably just to fuck with him. At any moment now, she could cut him or bite him or invent some other form of inflicting pain. Then again, maybe she really did have a thing for him. Alfred knew plenty of women who wouldn’t have said no to a night with him. It was really too bad that she was such a psycho cunt, because otherwise her gorgeous body and face would have predisposed him to want her. Maybe he did anyway. There was something called a hate fuck, wasn’t there? You’re never too old to try something new, he thought. 

Of course, he was only having these thoughts because she was being nice. She had removed the ball gag from his mouth, wiping away the saliva on his chin as he took a deep breath. The pain in his scrotum had finally subsided and she was now fondling it while brushing her lips against his cock. He was trying hard not to remember what her body looked like in the tight black leather: slim waist, sexy hips, voluptuous, golden-brown breasts pushed up to create a deep valley of cleavage—one any man would love to bury his head in. Well, any heterosexual man. Trying not to think of her body had made him think of it all the more. Now her tongue was running down the length of his flaccid penis and it was starting to swell. She picked it up and stuffed it in her mouth, sucking hard. Well, that worked. She kept on sucking him for a while and he was just starting to relax a bit, thinking maybe she’d turned from Hyde to Jekyll for good, when she pulled away. He tensed himself for the next assault. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Alfred. I’m just looking at you. You’re still a beautiful man, you know. I’m happy I was able to turn you on after all.” It sounded like she was standing just in front of him.

“Why don’t you take this blindfold off so I can see you, too?” He wanted to survey the room and see if she had any weapons near her, but he also wanted to see how closely his memory of her body matched the real thing. 

Tabitha was staring at his hard cock, trying to decide if she could straddle it without opening herself up to an attack. She had tied him down securely, but he might surprise her. She could always give him another shot to sedate him, but that would quite likely deflate the very monument she was currently considering scaling. Besides, she had every confidence in herself. Hadn’t she bested him once already, when he was unfettered and able to use all his strength and training against her? So she undid the blindfold and let it fall to the floor.

Alfred blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Yes, she was just as hot as he’d remembered—maybe even hotter. And she was looking at him like she wanted to devour him. Again. And in different ways. He followed her eyes. Realizing he couldn’t hide what his body wanted, he decided to do his best to seduce her. “Now that I can see you, I’d like to see more of you… Why don’t you get out of that very cool but overly restrictive outfit and come over here? Then you can use me however you like.” 

The dark-haired beauty contemplated this thought, then shrugged out of her leather jacket, unzipped the back of her corset, and threw it to the floor. Alfred’s lips parted as his eyes soaked up her glorious tits. She smiled and slowly peeled her tight black pants down to reveal that she was not wearing panties. Noticing his reaction, she said, “I don’t like panty lines.” 

Alfred gestured with his head for her to come closer. As much as he was enjoying admiring her form from afar, he suddenly wanted to admire it from within. 

“Um, Alfred? I don’t want to spoil your mood because I can see it’s done wonders for you, but I should warn you that I like an unusual type of foreplay.” 

Alfred hung his head in exasperation. More pain to come, then. 

But she didn’t reach for her whip or for his bruised and swollen crotch. Instead, she stood close in front of him, pushing her right breast into his face. “I like to be bitten. Hard.” 

He looked up at her. She wasn’t kidding. And why should he care if she was? She pressed her body closer to his mouth and he grabbed her nipple between his teeth, biting down hard. She screamed and he expected to be hit, but she smiled again and presented him with the other breast. He bit that one too, even harder this time, making her shriek with delight. When she pulled away from his mouth, he could see drops of blood around her hard nipple. “Um, you don’t have AIDS, do you?” he asked, not entirely jokingly. 

She didn’t answer, but draped a leg over his lap, straddling him on the chair. His hands were tied together behind his back and tied again to the chair. She could feel the harsh, scratchy ropes under her thighs but his cock stood free. “You can’t imagine how wet I am right now,” she breathed. 

“I don’t know, I have a pretty good imagination…” She lowered her pussy onto his cock and he gasped. “Okay, you’re right.” She moved up and down on him, the heeled boots she still wore giving her the ability to touch her feet to the floor. “If you untie me just a bit, I can help.” 

She stopped instantly and smashed the back of her hand across his face. 

“Okay, sorry, sorry.” With his chest lashed to the chair back, he couldn’t get close enough to her to head-butt her. “Just forget I said anything.” 

“Maybe I should gag you again.” 

He shook his head but said nothing, not wanting to anger her again. A few seconds later, she started moving again. It felt incredible, especially in comparison to the pain he’d felt earlier. Soon, he was breathing hard. She leaned into him, rubbing her breasts across his rope-crossed chest. While her eyes were behind him, he scanned the room. The whip was lying on the floor, in the far corner. The backpack was closer, about four feet from the chair. The gun was tucked into the front pocket. He saw that the window had been covered, but it was too small for him to get through anyway. The door was closed, but probably not locked. He couldn’t see any locking mechanism. It looked to be made of wood that was starting to decay. A couple of good kicks should take care of it. 

She was moaning now, but she seemed to be more frustrated than pleased. 

“Just untie one of my hands so I can touch you,” he whispered. 

“I can’t trust you.”

“Yes, you can.”

She shook her head, clearly disgusted with him.

“Really, you can. Do you think I don’t want to fuck you proper? Of course I bloody do!” 

Tabitha considered. What he said made a lot of sense. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to fuck her? 

Tabitha grabbed the gun from her backpack and held onto it, pointing it at Alfred’s head, as she untied the rope that joined his wrists together. She made sure his right hand was still tied to the chair back, then unfastened his left wrist from the chair. Alfred waited until she was back on top of him before he made his move. First, he rubbed her clit while she rode up and down on his cock, and he watched her face carefully. She was so into her coming orgasm that she had relaxed her hand a bit, letting the gun droop away from his head. He slid his left hand up her torso to her breasts, and she smiled. Then, so quickly that she didn’t see it coming, he smashed his fist into her chin, throwing her backwards, off of him and onto the floor. The gun clattered onto the cement. In the few seconds it took her to get to her feet, he untied his other hand and broke free of the ropes that held his legs, having loosened them already by pressing against them. He reached for the gun at the same time as she did, squeezing his hand hard over hers as she grabbed it. She cried out in pain and dropped the weapon. Alfred picked it up and held it steadily on her. “Now the tables have turned,” he said.

“You liar!” she shouted, and spat at him.

He wiped the spit off his cheek and stepped towards her. “I didn’t lie.” They were both still naked, except for her boots, and his cock was still hard. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down to the floor, keeping a tight grip on his gun. 

Tabitha felt the cold, hard floor under her, saw the barrel of the gun pointed at her head, and weighed her choices. He had come down to the floor with her and all indications suggested that what he was planning did not involve blowing her brains out—at least, not yet. She was still frustrated, wanting more. She decided to let him do it. 

Ignoring how the unforgiving floor dug into his knees, he got on top of her and pushed his cock inside her. He fucked her fast and hard, whispering, “Is this what you wanted?” She dug her fingernails into his back and raked them down it, leaving long red trenches in his skin. “You bitch!” he said, and bit down hard on her right shoulder. Again, he drew blood, and again, she seemed to like it. He was enjoying himself immensely, but the floor was getting more and more uncomfortable, so he stood up, keeping the gun trained on her. 

“Don’t! Where are you going?” she moaned. 

He didn’t answer, but found some clothes, spread them out onto the floor, and motioned for her to move. When she laid down on her back, he shook his head. “Turn over.” She didn’t, so he picked her up roughly and turned her. 

“What are you going to do?” she breathed.

“I’m going to give you what’s coming to you.” 

Oh yes, please, she thought. As he arranged himself between her legs, she pretended to struggle, but she wasn’t a very good actress and he saw through her. Still, he played along, perhaps wanting to convince himself that he was punishing her rather than rewarding her for the horrid things she’d done. He grabbed her long hair in one hand and pulled, eliciting a shriek. He stuck a wet thumb into her ass and then plunged his cock in, immediately regretting it. The action probably hurt him as much as it hurt her. With a roar, he fought through the pain, fucking her ass deep and hard. She was screaming, on the verge of an orgasm, her fingers underneath her body playing with herself as his hardness filled her. Then he abruptly pulled out and came on her back. 

“You bastard!” she shouted. He got off of her and she flipped over to face him. Her angry scowl softened and she begged, “Please, please… don’t leave me like this! Do whatever you want to after, but don’t leave me like this…” 

“Why the fuck should I care if you come or not? You’re a sadistic bitch and we’re wasting time. Now I’ll ask you one more time before I shoot you. Where—is—Bruce?” 

“I’ll tell you after you take care of me. I promise.” 

Alfred lifted his arm back, readying to whip her with his gun. The smile on her face stopped him. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing. It’s just that you’ll never find out where he is if I decide not to tell you. And you don’t scare me.”

“Really? I should.” 

“You don’t scare me because I’m not afraid to die.” 

“Maybe I won’t kill you—I’ll just torture you slowly.” 

“Even better.” 

Alfred lowered his arm. “Fuck!” He looked around the room, trying to decide what to do. Finally, he sighed. Finding Bruce was more important than anything else. “Fine. What do you want me to do?” 

She smiled again, knowing she had him, and laid back against the pile of clothes, spreading her legs wide. “Something nasty. Something pleasurable. Something you know I’ll like.” 

He rolled his eyes. The hate-fuck thing had been fun for a few minutes, but now he just wanted to get it over with. He thought fast. What would turn on a twisted woman like Tabby? He had an idea. He got down in front of her, head between her legs, and started to eat her out. Then, he brought the gun to her pussy and touched it against her clit. The cold, hard metal felt strange against her body. He slid the barrel down and stuck about two inches of it inside her vagina, teasing her with it. She started to moan again, and to push up with her hips, forcing the gun farther in. He clicked on the safety (he might need to kill her yet, but good Lord not this way) and held it steady, letting her fuck herself with the gun. He kept his tongue on her clit as she did so, reflecting that evil women tasted exactly the same as good ones. It didn’t take long before a massive orgasm swept through her body, curling her toes with tension before all her muscles went limp. Spent, she laid there breathing heavily as Alfred stood up and started pulling on his tattered clothes. 

“Okay, now where is he?” 

Tabitha leapt to her feet and rushed him. While his back had been turned so he could pick up his pants from the floor, she had reached her backpack and retrieved a long knife which she now stabbed at him. He swung around, clipping her across the chest with his arm, but not before she managed to stick the blade into his side. He pointed the gun straight at her heart and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He’d forgotten to take the safety off. She used his moment of confusion to kick the weapon out of his hand. As he lunged towards her, she grabbed the syringe out of the backpack and stuck it into his neck, pressing down on the plunger. One hand on the wound on his side, he hit her with the other, and she went down. When he took another step towards her, though, he stumbled. The drug was acting fast. Now she had his gun again and was aiming it at him. He sat down hard on the floor with a thud.   
*****  
Tabitha was still holding the gun on Alfred, who was slumped against the wall, struggling to stay awake despite whatever drug she had given him. She seemed to be talking endlessly as she pulled on her clothes, and he could only make out bits here and there until he heard her say, “How will Bruce feel when he finds out you’re dead, I wonder? What will happen to him?” 

This terrible thought jolted through him worse than the stabbing pain in his side. Oh my God, Bruce… But he was helpless to stop her. All she had to do was pull the trigger. A single tear slid down his cheek. “Please, Tabitha, don’t kill me…”

She laughed. “I like this new side of you, Alfie! Yes, let’s hear you beg, like the dog that you are. You pretend to be a gentleman, but I know what you’re really like!” She gave him a kick with one of her pointy-boot-covered feet. 

All Alfred could think of now was Bruce, standing at his butler’s funeral, sobbing. Or maybe there’d be no tears at all. Maybe Alfred’s death would be the last straw, the last thing to turn Bruce from a caring, naïve child into a hardened, violent man: exactly what Alfred hadn’t wanted him to become. With no parents and no guardian left, who would protect the boy? Gordon? He hadn’t done a great job so far. He fell deliberately onto his knees and tried again. “Please…don’t…” 

“Why should I care about you? Isn’t that what you said to me? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” She had both hands on the gun now, and was aiming it at his head. 

“I don’t know… Because I don’t want to die.” 

“Not good enough.” 

“Because maybe, just maybe there’s a tiny shred of compassion in you, somewhere deep down…” 

“Not likely.” 

“I know that’s not true.” 

“Really! Ha! Shows what you know.” But she had lowered the gun and was now aiming it somewhere around his chest. 

Alfred was contemplating what to do when a deafening sound of splintering wood filled the silence. Two bodies barrelled through what was left of the old door and Tabitha turned to look at them. In that moment, Alfred lunged forward, grabbing her around the knees with both arms. She toppled backward, pulling the trigger just before the gun fell from her hand. Gordon rushed toward her, pointing his gun at her and stepping on her outstretched arm. Bullock hurried over to Alfred. 

“Hey man, are you okay? Did she shoot you?” He was looking with concern at the blood oozing from Alfred’s side. 

“No, that’s a stab wound.” Alfred clutched his side as if just remembering that he might be bleeding to death. 

Harvey took off his jacket and pressed it to Alfred’s wound. “How did you get here? Why are you not wearing a shirt?” He looked around. “What happened here?” 

“What happened was that he lured me here, beat me, and raped me!” Tabitha shrieked. 

Gordon had secured her arms behind her with his handcuffs and was looking at Alfred expectantly. “I don’t believe that. Alfred?” 

“She’s a liar, Jim. You know that. She lured me here. And she still hasn’t told me what she’s done with Bruce!” 

Gordon grabbed Tabitha’s shoulders and shook her. “Where is Bruce? Tell me where he is, now!” 

“Only if you promise me that this…monster will be arrested for what he did to me! Look at me!” She lifted her chin, showing them the ugly mark where Alfred had hit her. 

Gordon sighed. “Alfred, did you hit her?” 

Alfred shrugged. “It was self-defence.” 

“It was self-defence,” Gordon repeated for Tabitha’s benefit. 

“Then you’ll never find Bruce.” 

Gordon thought for a few seconds, then walked over to where Bullock was helping Alfred to stand. “Harvey, give me your handcuffs.” 

Bullock looked at Gordon. “Seriously?” 

“We need her to tell us where the boy is.” 

Harvey looked at Alfred, who nodded, then handed his cuffs to Jim. Gordon cuffed Alfred and started to loudly recite, “Alfred Pennyworth, you have the right to remain silent…” 

While he was talking, Bullock phoned an ambulance. Then Gordon called for a patrol car. While they waited, Jim tried to get Tabitha to talk. “Okay, he’s going to jail. So where is Bruce?” 

Alfred shook his head. “She’s never going to talk if you just keep asking nicely.” Gordon threw him a look that told him to mind his own business. 

Harvey turned to Alfred and whispered, “You never answered me. What happened to your clothes?” 

“She cut them.” 

“I see.” He stared at Alfred’s naked and bleeding torso. “It looks like she did more than stab you.”

Alfred jerked his head in the direction of Tabitha’s whip, which was lying in a corner on the floor. 

“Oh. Yikes. Well, that sounds like self-defence to me,” Harvey nodded.

“Exactly.” 

“And you didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

Harvey cleared his throat. “Rape her?”

“Come on, Bullock!”

“If we’re really arresting you, and if Jim’s going to take this seriously or at least pretend to, we’ll have to do a rape kit on her. So I’m asking again…”

Alfred sighed. “It wasn’t rape, but it will look like it was.” 

Harvey shook his head. “What the fuck, Alfred! What did you do!”

“You should ask what she did to me! She raped me first!” 

“Oh my God, listen to yourself! I’m ashamed to know you, man.” 

“No, you don’t understand! Oh, bollocks.”

Gordon walked over. “She says she’ll tell us where Bruce is after she sees Alfred formally charged. You okay with that, Harv?”

“Go nuts,” Harvey told him, and walked away.


End file.
